


Banking on You

by LadyArinn



Series: Tumblr Prompts Made Me Do It (Inception version) [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Bank Robbery, Blow Jobs, Closet Sex, Hand Jobs, Kind of Roleplay, M/M, Schmoop, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6796498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyArinn/pseuds/LadyArinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is doing a bit of undercover work scraping together intel on a bank when Eames pops by for a completely innocent visit. He might be a little too interested in that closet, but Arthur finds himself a little too interested in the idea of Eames in the closet so things end up going a little farther than Arthur usually allows at work.</p><p>And oops, there's a bank robbery. They should probably get cleaned up.</p><p>Based on the tumblr prompt: "trapped in a bank during a robbery AU."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Banking on You

**Author's Note:**

> A sudden idea that I forced to stay short and sweet. I hope you enjoy!

“So, this is where my beloved husband works.” Arthur hears from the doorway of his _extremely_ temporary office, and looks up to see Eames leaning there, looking smug and lovely and oh god, that’s definitely a new shirt and it is horrendous.

  
“Polka dots? Really?” Arthur snorts before looking back down at the reports he was going through, “And Adam Scott isn’t married. I should know, since I am the man.”

Eames sighs as if Arthur were some troublesome thing, and fully enters the office. “I will convince you to use the marriage cover eventually. But, just so you know, I’m the security consultant, here to consult with you about security.” He props his hip against the edge of the desk and leers in an overly exaggerated manor that makes Arthur roll his eyes at him and feel a bit more fondness toward the man than the action is called for. “Are you feeling secure, Darling?”

“Now that you’re here? I’ve never felt safer.”

“Oh, you say the sweetest-”

“Mostly because I know that if anyone tried to do anything, they’d get distracted by your terrible shirt and be unable to do anything other than stare in horror.”

“Really now,” Eames gasps, sounding offended but there was an almost unnoticeable light of delight in his eyes that gave his true feelings away, “There is no need to be cruel.”

“I agree. Your fashion sense is cruelty enough.”

Eames grins and Arthur can’t help the twitch of his lips, and then Eames is standing up straight and cocking his head and smiling in a way that he thinks is charming.

It is, but Arthur will never tell him that.

“We should check out the place. For security reasons.” He says with heavy emphasis, and Arthur knows what he wants. He knows because he’s not stupid and they’ve been together for years, so of course he knows. He knows, and he chooses to allow it.

“Of course, Mister…?”

“Barry Driver.” Eames offers with a sunny grin and a jaunty handshake. Arthur rolls his eyes and leads the man to the manager’s office.

“Stella?” Arthur calls at the door, smiling blandly when the thin, bespectacled woman looks up at him, “I’m going to show Mr. Driver around for the inspection.”

“Oh,” She blinks, then gives him a tin lipped but grateful smile, “Thank you Adam. I’m afraid I just forgot completely about the consultation.” She waves her hand and laughs it off but Arthur just quirks his eyebrow at Eames when he turns back and the man grins.

He does show him around, because it’s a good idea to get better acquainted with the area you’re working with, but it’s the office section of a bank and they’ve looked at blueprints for days on end, so pretty soon they’re in the little nooks and crannies of the place.

“Where does this door lead?” He asks innocently, though Arthur knows that he knows what room that is. As stated previously, they had looked over blueprints.

“That, Mr. Driver, is an old supply closet.” He says dryly, his lips twitching just the tiniest bit at the other man’s noise of false consideration.

“I feel,” He says gravely, “That this might be a security concern.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It needs to be thoroughly investigated.” He says, right before pulling open the door and trying to pull Arthur in after him. Trying being the key word because just as he began Arthur shook off his grip and shoved him in.

“Mister _Scott_!” Eames gasps, looking and sounding completely and utterly delighted, “You are quite forward.”

Arthur huffs and rolls his eyes upward as he shrugs out of his suit jacket and hangs it carefully off of the doorknob, “I just go after what I like, Mr. Driver,” He huffs, charmed by the little giggle Eames gives as he loosens his tie and unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt, “It’s how I got to be such a top-notch financial manager, I believe.”

“Oh, Mr. Scott,” Eames hummed as he started to strip as well, being less than careful his clothes than Arthur was being, which was good because Arthur was able to put his own clothes on top of his instead of on any of the dusty filing cabinets or stacks of old computer paper, “How did you know that nothing turns me on as much as talking _financials_ does?”

“It’s my wild animal magnetism.” Arthur says as blandly as possible, his straight face cracking a little at just how pleased Eames seemed to be with the whole situation. It was true that this wasn’t exactly the usual way these sorts of things went – there was usually more convincing having to be done by Eames and less having been convinced coming from Arthur – but for some reason Arthur was feeling particularly delighted and playful and willing to mix business with pleasure than he usually was.

And Eames had never been more delighted.

Arthur bends over to untie his shoes and Eames groans because of course the perfect tease had done so facing away from Eames, and the perfect tailoring of that glorious suit was something that could very nearly turn someone to religion from the glory of it.

“Darling,” Eames manages, pressing the palm of his hand against himself in the hopes that the pressure would do something to calm himself down. It didn’t work, of course, because the dark haired minx shot him a wicked look over his shoulder and didn’t bother to do anything but adjust his stance in a way that put all of his assets on display even more clearly, “If you continue to insist on being so irresistible I’m afraid I will have to do something radical like ravishing you against these twenty year old cabinets.”

Arthur stood and turned, facing the other man and meeting his eyes in a manner that was so hot that Eames nearly swallowed his tongue, and then he started to slowly unbutton his pants. He didn’t look away, didn’t falter, just stripped out of those delicious trousers without looking away, and Eames wonders if this was how a charmed snake felt.

He takes those pants, looks away just long enough to fold them and carefully set them aside, then those eyes of his are right back and Eames almost jumps because those few second had been long enough for him to almost convince himself that maybe he’d exaggerated what it had felt like to be put through what he was beginning to consider the true Arthur experience.

Nope. It really did feel like he was being melted from the sheer force of what he had to agree was Arthur’s previously unexplored wild animal magnetism.

“I think should be the one doing the ravishing today.” Arthur says conversationally, and Eames wonders what it felt like to have the world stay steady beneath his feet. Because the earth was shaking, his knees were weak, and he was almost certain that if the wind blew the wrong way he would collapse right where he stood.

“Lovely idea.” He manages, “I agree whole heartedly.”

Arthur smirks, then he stalks forward, gets just close enough that there was just a breath of space between them and then, eyes holding a breathless Eames captive, drops to his knees.

“Oh, sweet mother Mary.” He breathes, and there’s a flicker of amusement in Arthur’s eyes just as he takes Eames into his mouth.

He might whimper. Maybe. Almost certainly. But with Arthur being Arthur and them being where they were, he couldn’t help it.

“Darling,” He gasps as Arthur hums around him, and those eyes finally close and free him, and he throws his head back on a groan.

Arthur adores Eames like this, and loves it even more because he was the cause of it. He was why Eames’ hips were rolling in aborted little thrusts, why his head was thrown back and why he was making those little sounds he always makes when he’s getting close to the edge. They always sound like they were punched out of him, drawn out by force.

And he was making them after only a few minutes. That was thrilling enough in and of itself, but then a little thrill of challenge lights in his gut and he wonders how fast he could get Eames to fall right off that edge.

So he shifts to a more comfortable position, rolls his tongue over that sensitive spot just under the head that has Eames cursing in – was that Polish? Why was he cursing in Polish? – and gives the best blow job of his life.

He loves Eames’ dick, maybe because he loves the man attached but also because it was one of the best dicks that he has ever allowed around or in him. The curve was lovely in his mouth or hand or ass, the width just right to fill him when he wanted it to, and he had to admit to being more than a little intrigued by his foreskin. If he had to rate it, it would get a solid 8.7 on a scale of 1-10, mostly because he believed that there was always room for improvement and he had come across a few others who had been better from a purely scientific point of view.

He would never say that to Eames, though. _Obviously_.

He swallows Eames down and the man reaches for him, and Arthur is moments away from stopping because where exactly does he plan on having that hand go? But then he remembers his mission and slaps those searching fingers harshly away from his hair before they could mess it up.

He sucks harshly in reprimand, and has to hold down Eames’ hips to keep him from jumping out of his skin. Eames curses, this time in English, and gasps.

“Darling,” He pants, “I’m close. Please tell me that I’m allowed to come down that lovely throat of yours.”

Arthur pulls back and ignores the other man’s noise of distress, going only far enough that his lips are only a scant half and inch away from the head of Eames’ now dripping cock.

“Eames,” He purrs, voice hoarse now, and he delights in the shiver the man gives at that, “I want nothing more.” He licks the head quickly and sinks back down.

“ _ibn il-3arS_ ” Eames curses, and Arthur almost chokes because he’s never had Eames go through so many languages in one sitting. It was quite the compliment.

It doesn’t take too much more for Eames to come, gasping and cursing – in Greek, this time – and pounding the wall with his fist twice, and that certainly does something for Arthur’s ego. He continues to suck and lick until the aftershocks are over and Eames pushes him away.

“Good God, Love, where on earth were you hiding that?” He pants, looking like someone had taken him apart, his hair ruffled and his face flushed, his chest heaving with his breaths as he pushed his mussed and slightly sweaty hair out of his eyes. “And why were you hiding it?”

“You hadn’t earned it yet.” Arthur sniffs, pushing himself to his feet to press a quick kiss against Eames’ lips, only to get drawn back in by Eames’ arms locking around him and those lovely lips of his chasing after him.

“Tell me what I did to earn it,” He murmurs in between dizzying kisses, “And I’ll do it again every day until I die.”

“Hmm.” Arthur hums, eyes fluttering as Eames’ hand wraps around him, “You haven’t earned it.”

“Just give me a minute.” Eames mutters, twisting his wrist in a way that had him gasping, sinking into the kisses with his weight against Eames and his hands wrapping around his neck, thumbs brushing over the calming pulse at his throat.

When Arthur comes it’s quiet, a gasp and a grunt just before he sags against Eames and breathes him in.

“ _Tue es belle_.” Eames says quietly, and Arthur huffs a laugh.

“We’ve gone all around the world with you today.” He says, speaking around the tightness that had just take over his throat. Eames chuckles and presses a kiss to his forehead before they pull apart from each other.

“I did not think this out.” Eames muses, looking down at his handful of come and then around them and at all of the non-cloth things filling the closet. Arthur rolls his eyes and checks to make sure none of his clothes have been damaged or too badly wrinkled.

“There’s a bathroom just down the hall.”

They step out of their little closet after managing to pull themselves together, and after taking a second to savor the fresh air they both notice at the same moment that there’s something wrong in the air. It’s too quiet and harsh and-

Gunshots, three blunt shocks through the air, and then they’re moving.

“I’ve still got fucking cum on my hand.” Eames bites out as he get out his gun with his clean hand.

“Deal with it.”

“You deal with it, it’s yours.”

“You’re the one holding it. I’d say that that makes it yours.”

Eames sputters, and they slip around another corner and they can finally see into the office area, and the gunman that is holding a circle of workers hostage.

“Did you just _finders keepers_ this? Really?” Eames hisses almost silently in his ear, and Arthur pushes him away with a huff.

“Like I said, _deal_ with it.” Arthur hisses back before stepping out, making a show of stumbling when he caught sight of the gunman and his “coworkers”.

“What…?” He sputters, and he can almost hear Eames’ snort in his ear because he always said his acting skills left a lot to be desired. But apparently the gunman didn’t think so, because he pointed his gun and narrowed his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He barks, and Arthur makes his eyes go wide and tries his best to look useless. It’s difficult, but he tries.

“I was in the bathroom,” He stutters, holding his hands out to show he had nothing in them. The civilians look at him in horror and the gunman looks at him with dismissal clear in his eyes, and this is really just too easy.

“He’s the one that will have the information you need!” Peggy, one of the loan officers, screeches, “He’s the new financial manager!” Arthur had always known she was a bitch.

The gunman sneers and steps forward to grab Arthur’s arm, and Arthur allows the man to get a grip before moving, punching him in the throat before twisting out of his hold and slamming his palm up to slam his nose into his skull. He snaps his wrist with a twist before taking the gun out of his hand, and takes out his legs out from under him.

After making sure that he wasn’t moving and that he wasn’t going to make any unnecessary sounds by maintaining pressure on his throats, Arthur sets about taking care of the situation as best he could

“May I have your ties?” Arthur two of the men sitting on the floor, not wanting to use his own because it was a beautiful purple silk he’d gotten in Italy and he was sure that at least one of theirs was from Walmart. They comply easily, and so he ties and gags the gunman with little fuss.  
Well, little fuss from the now captive gunman. The Civilians were another matter entirely.

“A-Adam!” Stella sputters, struggling to her feet, “What was that?”

“I took karate when I was in tenth grade.” Arthur remarks dryly, internally sighing at how everyone was looking at him because he wished he could have gotten more data than he had. The job they’d taken wouldn’t be impossible with it, but it would be a little more difficult. And now he was going to have to go to the team and explain what had happened and he really didn’t want to. It was better for them to think him infallible so that they kept up a healthy sense of fear, and all this would serve to do was humanize him.

He’d figure out a way to work this to his advantage later. He had more important things to worry about.

“Adam,” Peggy simpers, sidling up to him, “I hope you understand that I didn’t mean anything by-”

“Shut up, Peggy,” Arthur comments evenly, reveling in the way her face turned almost purple as she sputtered, “I really don’t care about your lack of empathy towards other human lives. Deal with that on your own time.” He looks down at the man tied up at his feet, ignoring everyone else as he considered.

If he was after Arthur’s Adam, that meant that he was after the information Adam was privy too. Which most likely meant that they were after exactly what Arthur was. They were just terribly unsubtle about it.

Well, it wasn’t the most likely scenario in the world, but it made sense, especially since everything else was just too much of a coincidence.

“I’m guessing that someone else is robbing the bank?” He asked, watching as everyone else’s eyes widened with horror. It was a reckless cover for getting information, one they had taken because they were impatient, but that didn’t matter. What mattered now was not talking to the cops, because Arthur would really prefer not to be caught in his lie about his entire identity.

It would make everything so terribly awkward.

Eames walks out from his hiding place and shoots a very convincingly bewildered look to the tied up man on the ground.

“This all looks terribly exciting.” He remarks, putting his hands on his hips – oh good, he had washed his hands – and everyone ignores him as they filter out to the emergency exit.

“Stella,” Arthur grabs her once they are outside, separating them from the group a bit. Eames is standing a bit too close, obviously eavesdropping, but Arthur decide to ignore him, “I’m afraid I’ll have to resign.”

“W-What?” She stutters, staring at him with wide eyes that were going glassy from shock. Arthur briefly pats her on her shoulder.

“I’m afraid the stress of today was just too much for me.” He pats her again. “I am really sorry about the lack of two weeks’ notice, but I’m sure you can agree that the trauma of today can exempt that.”

“I…” She trails off, obviously not knowing what to say, and Arthur manages to form a smile of encouragement.

“It was wonderful working with you. Don’t worry, I won’t call for a reference.” And he turns and walks away. He’s a few streets away when Eames joins him, and they only walk in silence for a few seconds before the other man is laughing.

“Shut up.” Arthur snorts, ignoring how his own lips were curving into a smile.

“I’d say something back, but I’m too concerned about how the trauma of today has affected you.” Eames snorts, “You are such a delicate flower, after all.”

“Shut up.”

“No, no,” Eames laughs, “I mean it.”

“I can see that you do.”

Eames grins at him, big and bright and delightful in a way that he rarely does around other people, and Arthur can’t help but respond.  
Sometimes, Arthur smiles and it always feels like a victory for Eames because he’s just not that visibly expressive person with his joy. They’re these sweet little upticks of the corners of his mouth that give just a hint of his dimples, and warm his eyes.

But sometimes, very rarely but sometimes, he smiles big and wide, a show of teeth with his dimples coming out in full force. His eyes scrunch up a bit and he always stops it all too soon, but every moment that the miracle of that smile continues its like someone was squeezing Eames’ heart and making it hard for him to breathe.

So Arthur smiles that special and rare smile and Eames’ whole world shifts alignment and he falls in love with this single moment in time so much that it’s hard for him to function.

“Darling?” He smiles, gently brushing the back of his fingers down Arthur’s arm in the most flamboyant display of public affection they ever demonstrated. “I really would love to take you somewhere and pay up on my earlier promise of ravishing you.”

Arthur blinks, that smile dimming to something more subdued but still lovely, and huffs a quiet laugh.

“Of course, Mr. Eames. Lead the way.” He says gently, and they make their way to their hotel in silence.

The work could wait for just a bit longer. It was, it seemed, the sort of day that called for the best sort of procrastination.


End file.
